


Maintenance Day

by alotofthingsdifferent, shihadchick



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Awkward Flirting, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, technically a vampire AU but it's not a big part of this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 19:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15298377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shihadchick/pseuds/shihadchick
Summary: It's a little daring, because he's a rookie and he's chirping one of his team's top defensemen, but Leddy doesn't seem to think he's doing anything out of the ordinary or even anything presumptuous, so… Tito's not going to start worrying about it now.





	Maintenance Day

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as chatfic back in Beau's rookie year, so it's only... a little late in getting finished and posted. :D There is a little acknowledgment of the power imbalance in Tito being a rookie and Nick being established, but other than that I don't think anything that would usually be warned for is in this--please let me know if you feel anything should be added, though!
> 
> Thanks to A. for being an excellent co-writer and to dip_cheese for the beta. <333

"You know, Boych was not wrong" Tito says thoughtfully, head tilted to consider Leddy. "Your beard is starting to get a little, uh—" 

He can't say bad, because it's _not_ , but it's certainly not as neat as it could be. Less meticulously groomed than some of the other guys on the team for sure. And with Casino Night coming up they're going to be expected to be looking their best. Anthony has had three well-meaning teammates check that he understands what black tie means already, and he's not even sporting mildly embarrassing facial hair.

Not that Leddy's is.

It's mildly embarrassing for him, maybe, but that's just because he can't seem to stop himself noticing it.

Knowing that doesn't stop him from chirping Leds for it, though. It's a little daring, because he's a rookie and he's chirping one of his team's top defensemen, but Leddy doesn't seem to think he's doing anything out of the ordinary or even anything presumptuous, so… he's not going to start worrying about it now.

Not when he's finally getting to the point where the rest of the team aren't teasing him for being quiet all the time.

"A little what?" Leddy repeats, raising an eyebrow, his hand coming up to pat his own jawline as if he's expecting to find something else there.

"It could be neater," Tito says, although mostly it's just starting to get uneven around the edges, not growing evenly where it creeps down the side of his jaw, a dark shadow that Tito's eye seems to keep going back to any time he's not concentrating on other things, like playing hockey and listening to his coaches and trying not to wind up on the wrong side of a Sportscenter highlight. "You know," he adds, and waves a hand along the side of his own throat in illustration. "Down there."

Leddy gives him a look that Tito can't quite read, and puts the remote he'd been fussing with down on the coffee table. He'd been channel surfing idly while they waited for the Modern Family marathon to start, and Tito was not going to complain if it would stop Leds from flicking channels every two seconds.

"You try trimming a beard when you can't look in a mirror to do it," Nick says evenly, and then a sly grin curves his lips before he adds, "Oh wait, I forgot, you can't even grow a beard yet."

"Shut up, I could," Tito says, and elbows Leddy in the ribs automatically to punctuate his own point. He almost never remembers the whole ‘so Leddy’s kind of a vampire’ thing most of the time, it just doesn’t really come up. Well, except for moments like now, that is. 

And maybe sometimes when he’s thinking shit he probably should not be thinking about his teammates. But most of the time: not an issue.   
"Uh huh," Leddy says skeptically. "Okay, genius, help me out, then."

Tito's not sure how to react to that; this is—probably not a thing most guys do? Or maybe it is, Americans are weird sometimes. He's not going to say no, though. He doesn't think Leddy would be setting him up for any kind of mean prank, anyway. Chirping, sure. But Nick isn't that kind of guy, otherwise.

"Sure, I guess," Tito says, and he follows Nick when he gets up and walks through the doorway on the opposite side of the living room. 

They go through what Tito assumes must be his bedroom, given the rumpled covers on the unmade king-size bed and the Islanders hoodie hanging off a chair by the dresser, and into a surprisingly large and well-lit bathroom. It's about the same size that Tito's hotel room back at the start of the season had been.

Nick pulls open a drawer at the sink and digs out an electric razor and some moisturizer, setting them down on the side of the bathroom cabinet and turning to face him. Tito's not sure if he's calling Leddy's bluff or vice versa, but he's definitely not backing down now.

He steps closer to Nick and then starts to think about how he's actually going to do this, shoving his glasses back up where they've been slipping down his nose while he frowns and thinks about it. Nick's not tall, or at least not by hockey standards, but he's definitely taller than Tito.

"You can see well enough to do this, right?" Nick teases gently, and Tito knows how to respond to that, at least; he just rolls his eyes and doesn't dignify it with an answer. If he'd known they'd be doing anything more than just watching TV he'd have put his contacts in, but staring at the TV for too long always makes it feel like they're drying out and leaving his eyes all gritty.

"Okay," Tito says after a moment, "I think you might need to—" and apparently Leddy reads people well off the ice, too, because he doesn't even need to ask before Nick slouches a little, leaning back onto the bathroom cabinet. It leaves his face lower—easier to reach—and so Tito flicks the clippers on and hopes he doesn't fuck this up.

He's pretty sure Leddy will stop him before he can do that, but if he did mess it up—he's never seen Leddy without the beard, and he almost can't imagine it. Probably there are pictures online, Tito vaguely remembers that he didn't have it when he'd been with Chicago, but going looking seemed… creepy.

Tito tracks the curve of Nick's sideburns and along his cheeks carefully, echoing what Nick's already clearly maintaining, and thinks, okay, this isn't bad, he's mostly doing okay. Tito's hardly done anything, though, because he wasn't entirely joking before; the parts of Nick's beard that are a little scruffy are all the longer parts on his throat, along his jaw.

Of course, then he makes the mistake of looking up to meet Nick's eyes and that's terrible, because it dawns on him all of a sudden how entirely ridiculous this is. Nick seems to get that as well, because his mouth is twitching, his eyes are crinkling up, and Tito is about two seconds away from the embarrassing helpless giggles that you can't stop once they start. 

He chokes it back just a bit, to the kind of half-giggles that he thinks will count as mostly unexceptional, it's just—he's helping one of his teammates _shave._ Normally that doesn't happen outside of the kind of pranks that happen when people fall asleep on buses, or on dares or things like that. Like Olly carefully tipping glitter into Yanner's scruffy beard in the playoffs. Not in the quiet, well-lit, neat and tidy bathroom of one of his teammates in the NHL, for fuckssake.

It's awkward, and a little weird, and—Tito shifts his weight a little and can't lie to himself any more, not with Leddy's skin so soft against his fingertips—it's turning him on. And he really can't let Leds notice that.

Leddy, for his part, is holding statue-still and probably trying to ignore the brush of Tito's fingertips on his neck.

Tito figures if he's really doing this he should do it properly, so he runs his fingers along Leddy's jaw and says "Look up."

Nick's Adam's apple bobs as he looks up, swallowing hard. He's gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles are white. 

Tito's careful with the razor as he drags it up, holding his breath, trying not to let himself think too hard about this. Trying really hard not to notice the way that Nick shivers for a heartbeat before catching himself and going still again, letting Tito work.

Tito's pretty sure he's doing an okay job—right up until he runs his fingertips up Leddy’s throat to check he hasn't missed a spot and Leds makes a tiny, tiny sound and Tito freezes, before meeting Nick’s gaze to see that no, he hadn't _hurt_ him at all.

Nick licks his lips. Tito thinks maybe it was an unconscious thing, but it doesn't stop him from gazing down at Nick's mouth and then back up to meet his eyes and…okay, maybe not so unconscious then.

Holy _shit_.

"Uh," Tito says, floundering, because he's pretty sure he's not reading this wrong, but—what if he's reading this wrong?

And then Nick turns his head just a little, leaning in to his hand, and now Titos the one who's breathless.

Nick swallows again, Tito feels it where his hand is still resting on Nick's throat, and when Tito drags his thumb along the underside of Nick's jaw, Nick closes his eyes. Tito startles when he feels Nick's hands on first one hip, then the other, and drops his own hand to Nick's thigh in automatic response. 

"Leds," he says softly, and it sounds more like a question than he meant it to.

"It's okay," Nick says softly, and then hesitantly, "I mean, is this okay?" Tito can feel the tension in Nick's muscles under his hand, can see how he's biting his lip while he waits for Tito to do something.

Tito has no idea what he's doing. But he doesn't think he's been imagining the little looks Nick's been throwing him, both on the ice and off, and he's caught Nick staring at him more than once recently. So he leans in, noses along Nick's jaw, Nick's beard surprisingly soft against his skin. "I wanna—" he starts, quiet against Nick's ear.

"Yeah," Nick says, "Yeah, c'mon, me too."

"Oh," Tito breathes out, barely audible. 

It feels so much more momentous than it maybe should when he brushes his lips over the corner of Leddy's mouth. Nick's trying to play it cool but Tito can feel his hands tighten at his hips as he dares another kiss.

Nick makes a small sound, using his grip on Tito's hips to pull him closer, and Tito takes the opportunity to loop his arms around Nick's neck and deepen the kiss.

Without really thinking about it Tito just lets Nick pull him closer, till they're pressed right up against each other and he has to admit to himself that he wants more, wants to push back and see where else Nick wants him to touch.

And that’s—a lot, all of a sudden, it’s maybe more than Tito feels like he should be jumping into without letting himself really think about what he’s doing. As much as he wants to hurl himself head first into how good it feels, he just needs a moment to take a breath, to work out exactly what he wants here. 

He does the closest thing that he can bear to do to that, breaking the kiss and taking a small step backwards. He glances at himself in the mirror behind Nick—his neck is flushed, cheeks blotchy, and his lips are red, shiny from kissing Nick. And wow, yeah, it’s weird that he can’t see Nick there, even though he’s standing right in front of him, warm and solid and so thoroughly distracting. He can see Nick notice him noticing, too, and the corner of Nick's mouth turns up, that trademark crooked grin of his, before he raises an eyebrow at Tito. 

"Where y'goin?" he asks, like he knows Tito's not going anywhere. (He isn't.)

"Maybe, uh. We should--?" Tito glances over his shoulder at the bathroom door, acutely conscious all over again that it's Nick's _bedroom_ there. As much as he can feel the urge to just go to his knees then and there if it's what Nick wants, if there's a bed that's even better.

Nick is still smirking at him, and Tito's stomach does a funny little flip. "Use your words, rookie," he teases, and Tito pulls a face at him. Then Nick kicks his foot out, hooking his calf around Tito to tug him closer again, and Tito forgets what he was going to say. "I've been checking you out for a while now, y'know," Nick says, ducking his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to Tito's throat. "Wondered if you noticed."

"I just thought you were kinda weird," he says, only a little embarrassed at how breathy it comes out. He’d noticed. He just hadn’t wanted to let himself believe it. Nick laughs against his skin and pinches his side.

"Asshole," he says fondly. "See if I give you a blowjob now."

Tito nearly chokes on his own tongue. "You'd—that—is that on the table?" he sputters, his face hot and his dick really, really interested.

Tito had kind of figured that if anything was going to happen, then it would probably be him going down first, not because he thinks Leddy's the kind of asshole that wouldn't reciprocate but just—this is outside his usual experience.

Teammates who want to fool around usually want some level of deniability, just bros helping each other out, whatever. He's not used to any kind of open discussion first. It's sort of nice, in a way where that means he wants this so much that he's low key freaking out about messing it up.

"Uh, yeah," Nick says, like that's obvious. He pauses a second, pulls back to look at Tito. "You're into that, right?" Nick sounds a lot more serious then, like he really wants to make sure Tito knows that he’s listening to him.

Tito's not exactly proud of how his reply comes out higher pitched than his voice has been in years. "Yeah," he clears his throat and tries again. "I, um. yeah."

"Great," Nick says, his eyes only laughing at Tito a little bit, but he ducks in to kiss him again anyway, letting it get dirtier this time, hotter and more consuming. 

Nick's hands sliding back from Tito's hips and around to grab his ass helps, too.

He makes a small sound against Nick's mouth, less a whimper and more a moan, and Nick grins into the kiss, moving to drag his lips along the slope of Tito's neck. "You're pretty cute, you know that?" he mumbles, and Tito sucks in a breath when Nick rolls his hips. If it feels this good to rub his dick against Nick's with this much clothing between them, he's not sure how he's going to survive Nick's mouth on him.

Nick puts one big hand on Tito's chest, shoving lightly until he stumbles backwards and Nick can stand at full height. He moves right into Tito's space, sliding his palms up Tito's arms and down again before he tucks his fingers under the hem of his shirt and yanks it up. Tito lifts his arms without being asked, his head falling back when Nick's teeth sink into the join of his neck and shoulder. It’s not biting with _intent_ , not breaking the skin, and Nick’s teeth are blunt and resolutely human, but it still sends shivers through Tito’s body, makes goosebumps chase up and down his arms. 

"Fuck, Leddy," he manages to say, and Nick chuckles.

"That's the idea, yeah."

Tito makes another sound that's probably incredibly embarrassing, or it would be if he had any space for shame, but instead he's just overwhelmingly turned on. He'd worry about how hard he must be blushing, but he's pretty sure all the blood in his body is rushing in the exact opposite direction to his face.

Leddy drops his shirt somewhere beside them, and focuses on dragging his teeth lightly over Tito's skin, leaving marks scattered all around his neck and shoulder, where they're not going to be hidden by his jersey at all, and oh, okay, apparently Tito can still blush, feels his face go red just thinking about that.

He's not used to kissing someone he has to reach up to, and even if Leddy's not exactly all that tall by hockey standards, he's still taller than Tito, still much more solid, feels so big pressed up against Tito like this.

And, okay, it's not like Tito's let himself look before, or as if he's about to get a ruler out or anything like that, but given the way Leddy's plastered all over him at that point, Tito's pretty confident in guessing he's big _all over_.

He's just gotten used to the proximity of Nick's body, of the heat building between them, when Nick's suddenly gone, his mouth no longer attached to Tito's neck. Tito shivers and blinks his eyes open, confused, and catches a glimpse in the mirror of the bathroom door behind him swinging open wider. It only takes him a few seconds for him to get it together and follow Nick, somehow managing not to stumble over his own feet in his rush.

Nick's perched on the edge of his bed, his legs spread in a perfect vee and his hands resting on his thighs. There's a smear of moisturiser under his left ear still, Tito's just noticing, shiny where they’d both gotten too distracted before Tito could even rub it in, and he swallows before making his way to where Nick sits, just two long strides until he's standing between Nick's knees.

"Hi," Nick says softly, leaning in to pepper kisses all over the taut skin on Tito's belly. When he tucks his fingers into the waistband of his pants, he raises his eyes in question, and Tito nods quickly, closing his eyes while Nick works his zipper down.

He's not sure he can look, really. 

It feels like a lot to even be in this situation, like he should pinch himself to make sure this isn't the type of dream you wake up embarrassed from. Nick's touch feels too good to be anything but real, though; careful and warm and so confident. All the same, he's pretty sure seeing Nick help him strip off—seeing Nick's big hands on his skin as he carefully extricates Tito from his underwear—would be close to overwhelming.

It doesn't take Nick long to get him naked, either. Tito kicks his jeans aside, knows his cheeks have gone redder again as they get caught at his ankle for a moment before he can shake them off, but then he's standing there, bare-assed naked, dick hard, trying with all his might to play it even marginally cool.

His skin is breaking out in goosebumps from the air conditioning, cool across his back and shoulders and lower, and—that's probably not going to do him any favors, really. But before he can start actually worrying about shrinkage Nick's hands are hot on his hips again, holding him steady, and then—

Well, Nick's mouth is really fucking warm.

He curses under his breath, and when his knees wobble, he reaches out for Nick on instinct, his hand fitting perfectly into the curve of Nick's collarbone. Nick hums, and Tito feels it all the way down to his toes, curling them against the carpet beneath his feet. There's no way this is going to last, not when Nick's taking him deep like that, swallowing around him like he's starved for it. Tito's not ready for it to be over, though, so he threads his fingers through Nick's hair and tugs lightly, gently easing him off. 

"What's wrong?" Nick asks, his forehead creased with a questioning frown. He licks his lips, and Tito desperately wants to kiss him again.

"Nothing," he says quickly. "Nothing, just—I was gonna come, and I don't—I, uh. I want it to last a little longer."

Nick grins up at him, eyes dancing, and Tito's heart skips a few beats. 

"Okay," he says simply, and scoots up onto the bed, patting the spot next to him. 

He looks a little obscene, Tito thinks, his lips a little puffy and his hair a mess from where Tito had his hands. He has one knee cocked out to the side, the bulge of his dick obvious in his sweatpants, and Tito wants to get his mouth on the trail of hair disappearing into Nick's waistband.

He settles for climbing onto the bed and then into Nick's lap, kind of, his knees either side of Nick's thigh.

That gives him the proximity and the height to lean in and get the kiss he's been wanting, Nick's mouth opening easy for him, letting him press as much as he likes. He's aware—overaware, really—of the way he's getting Nick all messed up now too, his dick leaving streaks of precome on the side of Nick's sweats, where he can't quite stop himself from rubbing off, trying to keep himself just on the right side of gonna-come-real-soon.

It's not like he's not doing anything for Nick, either; their current position might be good for Tito but it's also good for Nick, Tito's thigh tucked right up against his dick. Tito kind of wants to get Nick to rub off on him like that, wants to mess him up all the way, sweat and come and everything, enough that they'll both need to shower after. 

But more than that he does want to suck him off, badly enough that he manages to cut himself off after they've made out for a few minutes longer. He pulls back and just looks at Nick, his lips buzzing, feeling a little swollen already, and he swallows hard, tries to find his voice again.

"Can I, um," Tito says, feeling a little shy still, despite the fact he's pressed right up against the evidence that Nick's finding this as hot as he is, despite knowing exactly where Nick's mouth just was and why he tastes like that. 

He lets his hand settle low on Nick's stomach, fingertips brushing over the dark hair, pushing just inside the waistband of his sweats suggestively.

Nick's hips jerk just enough that Tito notices it, and Tito shifts his weight, sitting back on his heels as Nick leans back on his elbows, watching Tito with dark eyes. "Go for it," he says, and Tito can only just hear the tease in his tone through the roughness in his voice.

Tito swallows, his gaze traveling over Nick's chest, down further to where Nick's tenting his sweats. He cups Nick through the fabric and savors the sharp intake of breath he gets in return, the nearly imperceptible roll of Nick's hips under his hand. He hasn't done this in a while, but he's done it enough to know that he enjoys it, and just thinking about getting his mouth on Nick's dick is enough to make his own dick jerk responsively.

He shifts around to get leverage, licks his lips and yanks on Nick's sweats, tugging them down to his thighs. Nick lets out a soft sigh when he leans in and noses at the crease of Nick’s groin, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the jut of his hip. 

Nick's squirming a bit while Tito takes his time working inward. Maybe he should've actually got Nick all the way naked, dumped his sweats on the floor next to everything Tito had been wearing and let him spread out, but he's also kind of enjoying the way that Nick can't move all that much, his knees and calves trapped in the scrunched-up fabric of his pants, held even more immobile with Tito's weight over him. Tito lets himself slide down the mattress a bit more, giving himself a better angle, shifting his center of gravity so that he can support himself with his forearm low on Nick's stomach, his other hand rubbing lightly along the inside of Nick's thigh while he sucks a faintly-pink bruise into the skin just by his hip.

Nick groans out loud and his squirming becomes more pronounced, his dick straining up, leaking a little. Tito swallows hard and freezes for a split-second to tell himself that yes, he's really doing this. 

He doesn't think that his pause for a mental pep talk was noticeable, but when he does finally curl his fingers around Nick's cock and close his lips around the head, Nick sinks back into the mattress and mutters, "Fuck, finally."

Tito considers chirping him back, but he's got more than enough on his hands—literally—to let himself get distracted trying to score the sort of points you get for giving each other grief in the locker room. Doing that while they're in the middle of having sex (and holy shit, they're _having sex_ , Tito's hindbrain helpfully points out to him) just seems like a waste of time and energy and breath.

Thinking about that makes him think about other things, and so Tito takes a deep breath in through his nose and tries to go down as far as he can. He hasn't exactly done the whole deep-throating thing before and Nick is—there's a _lot_ , not that Tito is complaining, fuck—but even if he doesn't think he's exactly doing that right, Nick seems to be enjoying what he _is_ doing a lot.

Nick's hands slide into Tito's hair easily enough, but there's just enough of a hitch before his thumb runs along the curve of Tito’s ear for him to read that as Nick checking he's okay to do that, giving Tito the chance to shake his head or pull back if he wants to.

Remembering what Nick'd just done to him, Tito hums encouragingly and tries to sink down another half-inch.

Nick moans out loud at that, and his dick jerks a little in Tito's mouth, which he's mostly cool with. He likes seeing—feeling—the effect he's having on Nick, and he's not too proud to admit that it's turning him on more, too. Not that he needs the help.

Tito shifts his weight a little more, lets his fingers dig into Nick's thighs, feeling the muscle tense and flex under his hands while Nick tries not to move too much. 

It's so hot, the weight of Nick's cock in his mouth, pressing firm against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and he can feel the way the corners of his mouth are going tight and a little cracked, his lips stretched out around Nick. He's drooling more than a little too, saliva pooling at the bottom of his mouth, sliding down his chin as it spills out, easing the slide as he tries to swallow Nick down. His face feels hot, red and sweaty, his skin too tight, but the way he can hear Nick's breathing so loud and rough as he pants, well. That's hot, too.

"Hey, hey, Tito," Nick says softly, voice tight like he's trying not to lose control there, either, "I'm gonna—if you don't want me to come in your mouth, uh, you gotta move."

Tito tries to say "that's okay" but he also doesn't want to take his mouth of Nick's cock, so it comes out kind of garbled and, he thinks, not even really recognizable as words. Nick seems to get the message okay though, and his fingers tighten in Tito's hair, pulling for the first time, just a little, not like he's going to yank his head or anything but keeping it taut, keeping Tito grounded and focused.

That's probably for the best, because it really doesn't feel like much more time at all—maybe a couple of seconds—before Nick's jerking in his mouth, coming in salt-bitter spurts across the back of Tito's tongue, coating the inside of his mouth so that when he finally sags back onto his heels and wipes at his mouth, all he can do is swallow and swallow and swallow again.

When he lifts his chin eventually it's to see that Nick looks _wrecked_.

He's sprawled limply on the mattress, soft all over, his dick shiny with Tito's spit and the streaks of come he hadn't swallowed, his chest and stomach rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. He's just looking at Tito though, so fondly, affection clear on his face, as well as something that might be pride or might just be—residual arousal, Tito thinks. He's kind of pleased with himself, and he's happy that Nick's happy, that Nick seems to think he was good.

"Fuck," Nick says, with some feeling. "That was—god, come here," and he makes a hurry-up motion with his hand, drawing Tito in.

He doesn't need to ask that twice, and Tito shifts immediately, fitting himself along Nick's side, curled in close to him.

Nick gets his hands on Tito's face and rolls onto his side to face him, tugging him closer, so they're sharing breath, barely an inch apart.

"Is this—?" Nick asks, and Tito doesn't need him to finish the sentence, can read the "okay?" in the crease between his brows, the careful, considering way he's looking at Tito, in the incongruously gentle touch of his fingertips on Tito's jaw, guiding and not demanding.

"Yeah," Tito breathes, and he leans in to kiss Nick again, closing his eyes and letting himself sink into it.

Nick hesitates for a fraction of a second, almost long enough for Tito to second-guess himself and start wondering if he wasn't supposed to do this, but the noise he makes against Tito's mouth makes it abruptly obvious that he's not objecting to this, more like the opposite. It's incandescently hot, Nick's mouth open to his, greedily devouring him, his arm slung over Tito's hip and holding him close, his palm drifting down Tito's spine, towards his ass.

It's not as if Tito really needs the reminder that he's still hard, that he hasn't had even the moment of relief that Nick has, but it makes him whine, high in the back of his throat. He's torn; tempted to just roll forward and on top of Nick and just rub off on him like that, it's not like it's going to take much, but equally tempted to push back into Nick's hands, let him do whatever he wants with Tito, anything so long as he lets him get off already.

"You're so hot," Nick mumbles, and kisses Tito again, demanding and heated, confident in what he's doing and in his welcome.

Tito just opens up to him, lets himself move on instinct, his hips rolling forward, rubbing off against Nick's belly, his tongue in Nick's mouth, burningly conscious of the weight of Nick's arm on his side and of the way his hands cover Tito's skin, the way his fingers push between Tito's legs.

He hasn't kissed anyone with this much of a beard before, Tito thinks a little hazily, too desperate to really think in more than halting, sharp bursts of want, but his lips are buzzing, feel oversensitive as Nick keeps kissing him. He shudders hard in a full-body motion when Nick backs off long enough to start mouthing his way down Tito's throat, scraping his teeth over the jut of his collarbone, leaving what will probably be a spectacular amount of beard burn in his wake. 

Right then, all it's doing is getting Tito hotter, but he might feel more self-conscious about that later.

"Please," Tito begs, a little brokenly, and he squirms against Nick, hopes that he gets that message. He just wants to get off already, he's been waiting long enough, surely?

"This okay?" Nick mutters, somewhere around his nipples, and Tito starts to ask "what?" but Nick's thumb pushes decisively between his cheeks, rubs down along the crease, and Tito really doesn't need to ask after all.

"Yes, ugh, c'mon," Tito says, trying not to squirm too much, in case Nick takes that as any kind of message he doesn't mean. He wants Nick's hands on him, in him, wants it enough that he's not going to be all that fussy about when or how it happens. Hell, he's desperate enough that he almost wants to tell Nick he could get a finger in him dry, that all he'd want would be harder, faster, more.

"Fuck, okay, wait a sec," Nick promises and lets go of Tito long enough to roll over on his side and dig frantically through the drawer on his nightstand. 

Tito would complain but he's pretty sure Nick's just going for lube, and as much as he might think he could go without, well. It'll feel better with it, that's for sure. Tito's desperate, not dumb.

It takes Nick a gratifyingly short amount of time to retrieve a bottle, and even less time to flick the cap up with his thumbnail, a few seconds longer to coat his fingers, cupping the overflow in his palm for a second while he tosses the bottle over his shoulder in the direction of the nightstand, and then gets both hands right back on Tito.

His hands are both slippery and slick, one curling familiarly around Tito's dick with a firm grip that makes his toes curl and tears a groan from the back of his throat, the other going right back to his ass, rubbing between his cheeks, just breaching him with his thumb.

"Oh god," Tito says, his brain starting to short out, overwhelmed.

"Good?" Nick asks, grinning a little manically, his teeth very white against the dark beard, his mouth open, twisted a little in concentration as he works Tito over.

"You know it is," Tito complains. 

He doesn't have the energy or the thought to spare on anything snappier or more fulsome in response, every nerve in his body lighting up in appreciation of the way Nick's hands feel on him, competent and confident and so fucking good. Tito's probably about three seconds from coming all over himself.

"Just checking," Nick says, laughing a little, but his eyes are hot, pinning Tito in place as he looks him up and down, as he watches his fingers move on Tito's dick, as he twists his wrist to push two fingers into Tito, sinking easily to the knuckle, muscles and tendons flexing as he reaches.

Tito's too busy letting his hips push forward enough to drive his dick into the warmth of the grip Nick has on him to think too carefully about that, chasing his orgasm almost single-mindedly, which is how it almost takes him by surprise when Nick's fingers brush across his prostate. He jerks back in response, gasping and shuddering, everything going white hot and desperate.

"Oh good," Nick says—to himself, Tito thinks. "That was so hot, you want—?"

" _Yes_ " Tito grits out, "Stop fucking around and—fuck me, oh god."

He almost can't believe the words coming out of his mouth, can't believe he's in this position. With a teammate, god; with someone he likes and respects as much as he likes and respects Nick. Can't quite believe he's in bed with a guy he watched win a Cup a few years ago, and now Nick's looking at him like Tito's everything he wants.

It has to just be lust, or a nearly-overwhelming desire to get laid, to get off. Tito's pretty sure that would explain all of this, and god, it's not like he's complaining, this is good for him too—so good—but he'd know if Nick looked at him like _this_ all the time.

It's maybe best if he doesn't ask himself too carefully about how he looks at Nick. 

All of the time, and not just when Nick's fingering him, face creased in concentration, his hands systematically and effectively turning Tito into goo. Into shivery, hot, sweaty goo; feeling too good to do anything but screw his eyes closed and twist his hands into the sheets while he curses in French and Nick keeps fucking him, keeps working his hand over Tito's dick, his hand tight and hot around the shaft, and unspeakably gentle as he tugs at the foreskin, working it back.

Tito bites his lip and arches his back and—howls, almost—and comes, in long slow pulses, all over himself and Nick's hand and Nick's bed, and—fuck, he feels good.

"Yeah, that's it," Nick says, quietly pleased, smiling easily at Tito while he lies there and tries to gather the shreds of his composure.

It's easier said than done, with Nick so close, looking at him like he's the best thing he's seen all week, with Nick's hand still proprietary on his ass, keeping a good grip on him.

It doesn't get any easier when Nick brings his other hand up to his mouth and casually licks the streaks of come off the back of his knuckles, cleaning himself up everywhere he'd missed wiping his hand on the sheet right after Tito came all over both of them. Sure, Tito just had Nick's dick in his mouth, but this seems somehow dirtier. Hotter. Or maybe that's just the fact it's Nick doing it.

The list of things Nick Leddy does that get Tito hot is… longer than he might like to admit outside the privacy of his own head.

"Uh, thanks?" Tito says eventually, thinking that he should say something.

Nick's lips crease in an ironic smile, and okay, yeah, maybe Tito can tell when he's being made fun of after all. Nick's not subtle. "You're welcome. Any time."

He pauses, and then gets a little more serious, catching Tito's eyes, waiting till he has his attention. "I mean that. Any time."

Tito shivers, just a little. That's—that's hot, that sounds promising, that sounds good, and god, he wants more of this.

"I, uh," Tito says. "I'm cool with that?"

It comes out like a question, and he flinches a little, shoulders climbing up towards his head, suddenly feeling much more tense than he thinks anyone who just got off that hard should be.

Nick reaches out, rubs his thumb over Tito's lower lip, hooks it gently into the corner of his mouth.

"I wasn't sure you were, uh, gonna be into this," Nick says, and Tito blinks at him. He can't fathom _Nick_ not being sure about that; he's been so obvious.

"Are you sure now?" he asks, daring to tease just a little. He's pretty sure that's okay after everything that's happened. And if that means he kind of licks Nick's finger while he's talking—Nick did stick his fingers in his mouth after all, he can't be surprised about that—well, that's just how it goes.

Nick laughs ruefully. "I'm getting that idea," he says, and rather than pull his hand back or make a face at Tito or any of a hundred other things he could do, he just rubs a second finger along Tito's lip as well.

Tito can read a hint when it's this broad, so he opens his mouth just enough to suck both of Nick's fingers in, curling his tongue around the top knuckle and groaning from the back of his throat when Nick just rubs his fingertips lightly over Tito's gum and then strokes the inside of his cheek. It's—it shouldn't be sexy, or it should just be sexy for Nick, maybe, Tito thinks; sucking on his fingers and making him think about Tito sucking on his dick—and making him remember that, is probably more accurate—but… it's turning Tito on, too. Having Nick's fingers push into his mouth like this, pressure against his tongue and his teeth, the thickness of his fingers keeping Tito's mouth stretched open just the slightest bit, saliva starting to pool at the corner of his mouth, spilling down onto his chin. That should be gross, but just like everything else Nick's done today—pretty much any day, if Tito's being honest—it's getting him hot.

And Jesus, he just came, there's no way he's going to be ready go to again any time soon. He sneaks a look down and Nick's still soft too, his dick limp against the sheets, the skin still a little flushed, and fuck, even like that Nick's big, makes Tito want to shiver and rub off against him, makes him kind of crave the feeling of all of that inside him, in his mouth, in his ass, wherever Nick wants him.

Tito sucks hard, and pulls back, doesn't want to leave Nick's fingers covered in drool or anything, so he tries to clean him up a little as he draws away, gives Nick a sheepish smile. "Uh, we're doing this again, right?"

"Yeah," Nick agrees, not even needing to pause and think about it. Tito maybe preens a little at that.

"Nap?" Nick suggests, after they've spent a few minutes just grinning at each other, kissing a little more.

"Yeah," Tito agrees. 

Neither of them brings up the fact the TV is still on in the other room, stuck on pause, and all the lights on, but honestly Tito doesn't even remember what was happening in the episode they'd been watching, and it's not like Nick can't afford the power bill. And maybe they'll even go back out there later in the afternoon, but—now that this is on the table, now that they don't need an excuse to hang out together and spend time after practice and before games, well. There's probably going to be less TV in Tito's life.

And that's fine, he can just get whatever the American cable version of PVR is, no worries.

Nick's much more fun than TV.

[end]


End file.
